Desperation
by Secret Lily
Summary: To love and be loved by another is truly an accomplishment. Merope Gaunt wants just that. She wants the handsome villager, Tom Riddle, and she is willing to do anything and everything to claim him for herself. Completed.
1. Infatuation

**Desperation**

**Part One: Infatuation**

To love and be loved by another is truly an accomplishment. I have never been able to feel love of any kind. Coincidentally, my entire world is fixated on the concept.

Such a powerful emotion. Love is truly a rare gift given to those deserving. The story books I've read as a child have always contained such as a central theme. Always. My father never knew about the story books, nor did he know about my heart's desire. He knew nothing. He was completely clueless.

If I were to tell him, Merlin only knows what could happen. A beating, perhaps. More chores, possibly. Yet, inevitably, the real punishment would be the shame. If my father were to know of all my secrets, it is likely he would disown me.

I am a prisoner in my own home. The Gaunt home, which lacks warmth, comfort, kindness, love of any kind. We're equally as poor as we are pure. Yet, living in poverty has never bothered my father. He is a dirty, cruel man. He has enforced the same beliefs as his parents upon myself and my brother, Morfin.

Morfin. If it weren't for him, my father would still be in the dark. I would not have to endure the constant abuse I face each and every day if it wasn't for Morfin. Damn him. Damn him eternally.

I don't belong in this family. I deserve more. I deserve to live in riches with a man who loves me. I deserve to be appreciated. I deserve Tom Riddle.

Yes, Tom. Tom is a man from the village. He is handsome, well-dressed, polite, cordial, chivalric, and sadly, a _muggle_. Yet, he has captured my heart. Each and every day I stray down to the village to watch him ride by on his groomed horse.

Those eyes. His eyes are beautiful. They encompass all that I long for; love. His quick smirk and almost weightless hair are desirable in every single way possible. I've seen him strolling through the clearing with young muggle beauties. He holds their hands, sings them soft lullabies, whispers in their ears. He treats them fragilely, as if they could break at any moment. To him, they're valuable. And yet, I am nothing.

No one considers me valuable in the least. I am worthless, useless, a slut. I am everything my father says I am. I am practically a Squib.

The slander, the lies. There is no unity in my home. Purity is not all that matters in this world. We're direct descendents of Salazar Slytherin and we live in the most foul of all homes. We live in the deepest part of the forest, secluded, trapped. We're not pure. We're damned.

If only I were beautiful. Surely, Tom would notice me. He would whisper in _my_ ear, caress _my _cheek, and never let _me _go. If I were beautiful, perhaps he would love me.

He would take me away from the horrible Gaunt family. He would vow to someday seek revenge upon Morfin, to someday confront my father. We would start a family, a beautiful family, and live away from those who antagonize us. We wouldn't care what people said. All that would matter is our love and the strength it provided.

This horrible face. So ugly, so lost, so forgettable. The face that reminds me that he knows not of my existence. I am invisible to him. I am a hag. I am ugly. I am a witch.

If only there was some way we could be together. Some way he would learn to love me for who I am, not how I look. I just want someone to love me. I want _him _to love me. I want what those storybooks preached to all those who read. I want to deserve love. I want to be valued. I want to be missed. Yet, most of all, I want to be free.

I no longer want to be a Gaunt. I want my own values, my own beliefs, my own family. I want to be treated with care. I want someone to worship the ground I walk on and the air I breathe. I want someone to love me tenderly. I want to be a catch. I want a husband.

I want to be a Riddle.

**A/N: There will be three parts to this story. Each part will most likely be around this length. I hope you enjoyed.**


	2. Amorentia

**Desperation**

**Part Two: Amorentia**

_Amor; love._

The bitter whispers my father shared with my brother did not go unnoticed to my keen ears.

_Nearly a Squib. The useless bitch. Look at the wench, Morfin. She has to wash the dishes by hand. Every ounce of her blood, purer than pure, is a waste._

They doubted my abilities. They doubted the magic that coursed through my veins. They doubted that I was capable. It was easy to keep things hidden, as I received no expectations from neither my father nor brother. Neither one of them could have suspected me capable to brew a powerful love potion.

However slow I may have been, however far behind I was, I was still capable of succeeding. Patience was what helped me through the process. I was able to slip off in the darkest of nights to Knockturn Alley. There I found the ingredients I needed, the instruction manual that would guide me along, and the confidence necessary to go through with it.

I convinced myself that it was the only way. I argued and fought, but alas, the potion was the only choice I had. He was a muggle, I was a witch. Our paths were not meant to cross. Yet, I was so deeply infatuated with him, with Tom Riddle. I knew that he would never accept me for who I was and what I wasn't.

I became stronger than anyone could have predicted. I was no longer defeated. I was no longer my father's slave. I was working towards my escape, plotting a way to make my dreams come true.

Once they were sent to Azkaban, my plan became even more likely to succeed. I had no one in my way. I could concentrate more efficiently without the constant murmurs ringing in my ears; _slut, squib, bitch, whore, etc._

I was magical. I was able. I was talented and damn them for doubting me. What did they have to show for their so-called 'talents'? Imprisonment. Not to say that they didn't deserve it, but after they left, I went without food for days on end. I was forced to steal from the muggle village. Eventually, I became known as the town beggar, a young hag whose life was already destitute.

If this was to bring me down, it did not. I became motivated. I was going to achieve what I wanted most of all; love. This potion was my lifeline. It would provide me with a husband, a loving home, and a family. I was going to be normal. I was going to escape the horrible life I'd been afflicted with.

Tom Riddle was going to fall madly in love with me.

Some may have considered it false love, trickery, scandal even. Yet, what I was resorting to were drastic measures. My heart was aching in agony. I was mourning each and every day over the death of my free soul. I needed an opportunity. I needed a future.

As I sat in that house day in and day out, brewing the pearl potion as instructed, the weight of the Gaunts hung around my neck serving as a constant reminder of my binding to them. Even if Morfin and my father were rotting in prison, they were still there. _In my locket. _Their blood still circulated through my body, their voices still rang in my head, and their souls were still etched into my heirloom.

The only reason I kept that locket was due to it's value. However beautiful it may have been, it represented all that I was trying to get away from. It symbolized the horrible home I'd been raised in, the mother that had left me, and the purity of my blood.

For one entire year, the only thought that kept me working on that potion was Tom. He was constantly on my mind. The only time I took breaks from preparing it was when I slept, when I stole, and when Tom passed through the woods.

I knew that I was going to marry him. He was my destiny.

Amorentia, the strongest love potion in the world, came to slip into my dear love's hands one particularly hot afternoon. Fate stepped in from there.

**A/N: What do you think? Hope you liked it. Please review.**


	3. Power of Love

**Desperation**

**Part Three: Power of Love**

For the longest time, I desperately believed that Tom loved me. I knew that the potion had been what brought him to me, but over time, he grew to love me. Intuition told me that even without Amorentia, Tom would still know that it was I who had taken care of him for the past year.

Many couldn't begin to know how it was that he and I came to be. The villagers whispered of scandal and blackmail, but I merely shrugged it off. _I _was the lucky one. They were merely jealous. I had the charming, handsome Tom Riddle as a husband while all they had were their slanderous rumors.

The Riddles had found it immensely shocking to find their son bewitched with love. They had attempted to interfere, but they truly had no say. How could they? I knew what they were thinking. I knew they thought of me as ugly and poor. What could I possibly have to offer to their son?

The truth was, all I had to offer was myself. We ran away together and lived in a fine, modest home. I accommodated to each and every one of his needs. Yet, either upon free will or due to the potion, all he really needed was me.

I was crazy in love. I was reckless. I was foolish. I don't know how I could possibly even convince myself that my feelings were mutual. I began administering less and less potion each and every day.

I couldn't risk my new, comfortable life all at once. I couldn't let go of something I found so precious, so admirable. Tom was truly my one value.

I relied on him for nearly everything. Love, comfort, companionship, solace. He was the most remarkable creature. All my assumptions about him from a distance were true. I finally felt like I had the type of storybook love I'd always longed for.

I had a dashing husband who loved me. I was so blinded. The wool had been thrown over my eager eyes rapidly, without any hesitation. I began feeling that the potion was unnecessary, as well as deceitful.

I never could have predicted Tom's _true _reaction. Once I stopped feeding him the potion, it was as if we were perfect strangers.

Even when I told him, even held his hand to my womb, that I was pregnant, he continually denied me. When I explained to him all that I was and all that we were, he easily brushed it off and ran home to his prude parents.

And so quickly, we were through. It was as if he'd never even been a part of my life. The only reminder I had that our love had even existed was the small child growing inside of me.

Yet, now that Tom was gone, I really found no use for a child. It would only serve to remind me of my stupidity. My heart would long for it's father each and every time I saw it, I would remember what I had and what was now lost.

Even worst, I was forced to give up that comfortable home I cherished. If things hadn't been horrible already, they went from bad to worst. I grew desperate, more desperate than ever before. I was poor, barely passing by, pregnant, and alone. I had no one. My father, if he had been released, would have disowned me. There was no one I could turn to.

I had no money, no food, no shelter, and no love. I'd lost all that I'd worked so hard, so stealthily, to achieve. My foolish hope. I'd gambled my love away on a slight possibility. And I was forced to pay for my mistakes.

I grew so desperate I sold my locket, the beautiful, but oh so heavy, family heirloom that sat on my neck each and every day. Ten measly galleons and it was gone.

Every night, wherever it was that I happened to be, I managed to feel the tears glide down my cheeks; tears for an unwanted child, tears for humility, and tears for my growing desperation.

I became weaker and weaker as the days passed. I knew it was unhealthy for my baby to grow without proper nourishment.

_Damn the baby. Damn it all._

The baby. Childbirth wasn't nearly as painful as love. Love was rare and shattered, imperfect in every way. There is no fairy tale, there is no justice, and there is no truth. There is only survival. And even so, I was losing my will to live. I knew that if I were to give birth, my life would go from miserable to wretched in a millisecond. I would not only be destitute, but I would have another soul, partially mine, that would rely on me for everything.

I wasn't ready for that type of responsibility. Not alone. Not without Tom. And so, I caved in. I allowed myself one small pleasure before giving up entirely.

I was to name the bastard child after the two men whom I'd grown to hate the most; _Tom Marvolo._

**A/N: The end. Hope you enjoyed. Please review.**


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